


A Maiden Prince's Troubles

by OKami_hu, oksammich



Series: Tarnished Silver [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Menstruation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oksammich/pseuds/oksammich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chronicles of Loki's exile to Midgard and some stories about his time before. The Raven Prince's plight continues as his newly acquired body works a touch too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to speed it up a little bit, because these parts are shorter. Enjoy!

The silence was far less a punishment than the darkness. Loki Laufeyson would far rather be stricken deaf than blind; to stumble through the endless black, the choking deep that unfurled solid fingers and dug into his white skin to make him a faceless part of it, was worse than death itself. He’d grown up in a palace he’d believed to be made of light, where color and warmth were as the very breath he took. There was never any absence of sun or star to mark the passage of time--not like here. Alone in the shadows, eternity passed with every breath.

There was truly no sleep for the wicked. He had no way to tell when his eyes were truly closed. The stones beneath him and the shackles around his wrists provided his only bond to this plane; otherwise, he was simply floating in the abyss again, with nothing to support his back, no strong arm around him, no comforting rustle of silk across skin. Just.. nothing.

Sometimes, though, there was hope. It was faint and small, but it arrived with three women like a beacon in the midst of a raging tempest. The woman up front held the delicate thing, the sole source of sanity in this forsaken place--a lantern he might’ve considered simple, when he was still a proud prince. Glass was frosted in whorls of opaque white and yellow, trimmed in thin bars of white iron and shaped into parallel designs of petals emerging from the last snow of winter. The handle was perfect for a woman’s small hand. Her white fingers clutched it as if it were a weapon, but he admired the shape nonetheless. The small bars gathered into the shape of a graceful stem, one tiny leaf reaching out to rest over her finely-shaped knuckles. He saw her fierce eyes, the angry set of her brow and tightness of her mouth, but still nearly wept with joy. Like a fool, he leaned toward that light and bit back a cry when it touched his face. He felt no heat, no physical touch, but Valhalla had finally penetrated the tomb of Loki the Traitor, and he would be grateful.

Their footsteps rang in his ears like funeral bells in Midgard. Although he wished to retreat from them, he remained still just for a chance to enjoy a few more moments of light. He followed it with his entire body, arching with the curve as the maiden set the lantern down on the floor far enough away that he couldn’t reach even if he strained against the chains. They kept most items out of arm’s reach, even though he had no use of his hands. Standard practice, he knew; prisoners were considered dangerous, any trinket considered a weapon no matter how great or small. Loki might’ve been stubborn as a true son of Odin Allfather, but he no longer had the will to fight anyone. He was damned to die here, or to go mad, so he would cling to sanity as long as he could, even if it came in the form of a cheap lantern.

They didn’t speak to him. He knew their faces from exactly twice before. The similarity of their eyes and the set of their jaw suggested a shared father. All three had the same flaxen locks braided back over slim shoulders, simple jewelry adorning their throats and wrists. The second woman carried covered buckets. The third carried his muzzle.

His jaw ached when he set eyes on the wretched thing. It was fit to render his Silver Tongue completely useless, and as barbaric as it was, she served her purpose. A few small eternities ago, Loki fought her. Half a dozen servants grabbing him and wrestling him to the ground wasn’t nearly enough; it wasn’t until two Einherjar clubbed the backs of his legs and crushed fists to his temples that he took the muzzle for the first time. Finely-crafted, it seemed to be created just for Loki Laufeyson. It filled his mouth, held his tongue down, and rendered his jaw immobile once it was locked behind his head. He recalled shouting that it was an insult, unfit to be used against the son of Odin.

He, however, was no son of Odin. So he chose not to fight when the eldest approached with conviction. He remained on his knees, head bowed forward, and without a word from her, obediently parted his lips to wait. Soon came the taste of metal, followed by the small click of a lock. He glanced up at her and with grief, saw that her eyes were blue.

His arms came up next, hoisted up by a chain that attached to the center of his shackles. The eldest pulled them high over his head, until he stood to his full height, legs popping as they unstretched. He hated being forced to stand, as it left the lantern seemingly miles below; in the darkness again, he felt small fingers slip over his plain prison clothing. The laces fell away like ash in the wind, leaving him bare (so very bare and exposed and helpless, just like always!). The breeches slipped down his legs and caught over one foot.

When one of the ladies pulled the cloth away, his breath caught in his chest. He wished to be treated as an animal, so he could just hate them all, yet one... just one, tenderly lifted up his foot, tipped it forward, and pulled the rest of his clothing away. Then, he felt her hand, soft as a feather, brush over his ankle in a touch that reminded him so much of his mother (Thor’s mother, you fool, she was never yours!) when he’d run to her, so very afraid and so very uncertain.

The touch was gone. It was replaced on his cheeks, as cool tears from eyes that were so tired of unseeing.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been three weeks since he became a woman, and since then, he’d had Thor’s undivided attention nearly every evening. Sometimes, he even had the privilege of the Golden Prince’s affections all through the night, into the morning, and after dessert. Their time spent together wasn’t nearly as... intimate as it had been during their first experience, as Loki had insisted upon doing far more research on his feminine form’s strange condition--namely, the odd fountain of wetness that left them both soaked and confused. For some inexplicable reason, Thor seemed fond of this habit. Had he a guess, he would wager that his disgusting reactions to their copulating was a point of pride for his beloved brother. While he wished to be surprised, he wasn’t. Not in the least.

True to his word, Loki spent most of his time in his chambers, tucking into the ancient tomes and obscure passages detailing the mysterious workings of a woman’s form. This day, he laid on her stomach with her legs in the air, delicate finger skimming over runes that were so faded they were nigh-invisible. Beneath simple etchings of bipedal figures, with only crude breasts and testicles to differentiate the genders, he found what he was looking for in a second-age explanation of the finer points of choosing a bride.

The information confirmed his curiosity: when in the throes of orgasm, a woman could also “erupt”, as the text explained, coating herself and her lucky husband in the “rains of passion”. A bit silly for his tastes, but at least he would be a little less mortified when next Thor came to visit.

Just the thought of his sibling-- brow furrowed in concentration, muscles sleek and sliding under bronze skin while he went deep, oh so _deep_ , and made his mark where no one had ever been before-- made her hips ache with want. The best word for his desires was “crave”. He woke with the phantom taste of those kisses tingling on his tongue, just as the urge for candied fruit and spiced wine sometimes tugged him from his comfortable bed. It left her hips sore and the lower half of her body throbbing dully, with a heartbeat all its own. He marked the page and closed the dusty book, setting it aside on top of the other passages he planned to share with his brother. With this knowledge, he finally felt a sense of relief. Now, they could freely enjoy themselves without the fear of rutting like pigs in their own filth.

With her stomach burning pleasantly, she slid her legs into the floor and disrobed where she stood. While he’d never been overly eager with his body, he still felt a sense of pride over this one. It was beautiful, just as Thor remarked every time Loki shared his bed and bared the full breasts for him to touch.

He planned to visit the Golden Prince before the nightly patrols began, so he could wrap this body in naught but a robe and surprise him properly. To say that he was immune to desire was a foolish thing. Each time Thor softly whispered his request to fill her, it took every ounce of resolve he had to refuse, or to simply take him in hand while the prince moaned his completion into her chest (or between her thighs, if he promised not to bring her to the brink). She stepped into her bathroom and summoned the spray, heated water cascading down to cleanse her body and make it soft and ripe for defiling. Up went her hands into her hair--perhaps she’d leave it wet, so it would stick to her cheeks and breasts--smoothing it back against her skull, then down to trace the supple curves he’d grown so accustomed to over this past month. A few nights, he’d entertained the thought of remaining this way. Certainly it would be cause for awkward explanations, but the looks received from his brother, as well as the Warriors Three, when they’d met in the gardens for a secretive explanation after yet another week without sight of the Trickster, were unlike any he’d ever received before. No longer was he the shadow to Thor’s light. Instead, he became the moon to his sun, beautiful and remarkable and precious as any first born prince of Asgard.

She slicked honey-and-herb oils across her arms and front, paying special care to the undersides of her breasts so that they would smell just as sweet as the rest of her. She found that firm pressure beneath the navel was pleasant, doing much to ease the bothersome aching that had persisted throughout the day. Then, with a flush to her cheeks and a spread of her legs, she delved her hand beneath, to caress the smooth folds, spread them apart, and leave the sensitive flesh helpless to the pounding of water above. With her eyes closed, she let the spray wash the oil away, and the slickness with it. The side of her hand was used to gently scrub back and forth, casting away the heavy scent so hopefully his brother would not be keen on just how eager Loki was to share his company for the night.

After a moment, when the slickness should’ve subsided and *hadn’t, she cracked her eyes and glanced down.

The color’s vibrancy faded quickly under the steady beating of the water, but it was unmistakable. Scarlet as his brother’s cloak, the blood slipped through her fingers to meld with droplets and collide with marble. It swirled around her feet and disappeared into shadow.

Panic was brief, as his mind flipped through all of the reasons for this horrific happening. With the lack of battles and physical trauma aside, he was left with only disease. Which was impossible.

Her fingertips slid between those folds again, finding the slickness there, and drew them across her hip and thigh. Blood painted her skin in beautiful contrast.


	3. Chapter 3

She stood before the Allmother’s chambers with robes over her shoulders and pulled over her head, dark hair knotted at the base of her swan-like neck. Her doors were wide open. Inside, he saw her ladies-in-waiting bustling about, voices rising in melodic cadence and falling as they swarmed to and fro. Mother stood toward the back, chin raised in untouchable, statuesque splendor, and watched with one of her faint, knowing smiles as a handmaiden spoke at length about a light blue gown that had apparently been stowed away in some dark, forgotten place.

Loki approached on silent feet. It was easy enough to go unnoticed, as the firestorm of activity made his presence of little consequence. The ladies of their staff were used to watching out for Allfather or the two Odinsons, not a bright-eyed, dark-haired young lass with a sore stomach and confusion etching her features. So, nearing his mother was of little difficulty. Getting her attention, however, would prove to be another feat entirely. He averted her eyes, hand sneaking out to brush hers in a childish gesture he wasn’t quite ready to outgrow yet.

Frigga stirred first, moving her hand away, then as she glanced down, her eyes lit up with understanding. She curled an arm around Loki’s shoulder, giving silent encouragement, for she could almost taste the distress lingering around her child’s form. She dismissed the gentle crowd with a few words, gave her orders for the next day and politely excused herself, to retreat to her inner chambers.

“What ails you, my beloved?” she asked quietly, stroking the slim shoulders. “I feel your unease - speak up, let me know if I can help.”

"Forgive my intrusion," she murmured in slow, careful words. The last thing he wanted was to attract the attention of a particularly perceptive woman. "I was unsure who to turn to this time--I pray you can help me." Her cheek pressed to Mother's shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as she inhaled that comforting fragrance. "This form is dutifully following her biological impulses. I seem to be.. bleeding, mother."

Frigga couldn't help the soft gasp escaping her lips. She held Loki tight and for a blissful moment, she was so, so proud... Then reality set in, and reminded her that it was her *son clinging to her and experiencing something only a woman should be able to. The Allmother was of course proud of her children - Thor took so much after his father, and Loki was so smart and talented, growing into a powerful sorcerer under her tutelage... But secretly, she always wanted a daughter. A child to be hers alone, one that would share everything with her in an intimacy only known between women. She bore no resentment that it never came to that, and in a wicked way, she was delighted that Fate tricked Loki into this temporary shape; but she knew that his son wasn't perfectly fond of all the sudden changes and oddities linked to his newfound femininity.

She sighed lightly, caressing the silky raven tresses she longed to play with. “Forgive me my child, I should have thought of preparing you. It looks like the spell is a lot more persistent than we thought. I hoped you would be spared of this, but since you weren’t, the best we could do is endure it bravely. I am sure you have heard of the ‘week of blood’ before. Have you read anything about it?” She knew it was selfish but she looked forward to cuddling with her *daughter, doting on her and soothing her pains and worries.

The arms around her felt so wonderful, speaking without words of Frigga's affection for her terrible son. The mere notion that she could so openly love him after all of his foolishness brought a burning pressure to the backs of her eyes. Loki buried her face against her and squeezed those cursed things shut, breathing hoarsely through a tight throat. "I've heard, mother, but merely as passing jokes and not as a serious discussion. I am aware of the despair it causes, of the tears and shouting, but forgive me.. I never knew of the rest."

Her hands shook as she laced her fingers with Frigga's and squeezed for more contact. "The body runs away from the mind and the mind is conflicted. I feel pain unlike any I've experienced before, and have urges that shame me." He was afraid, too. Afraid of the blood and the cramped insides, of her hot skin and filthy desires. "What shall I do?"

"Do not be ashamed. Albeit only by accident, you are a woman now, and you will bear a woman's troubles like the prince you are," Frigga told him. "I shall enlighten you then. There is nothing wrong about this, it is not an ailment and you should not let it get in your way. The monthly bleeding signals that a woman's body is ready to carry children. The womb prepares a nest for the seeds every month, but if the woman does not conceive, the womb cleanses itself. That is why we bleed. It does hurt at times, more or less, but we have made teas and brews to fix that since ages." She gently guided Loki to a comfortable couch. "Have you made some precautions to not bleed on the floor?" she inquired gently, with a smile.

"I located some bandages and used those to cover my undergarments." She settled down, cheeks flushing to make her wide eyes stand out even further. Hands folded in her lap, she scooted to the side so Mother could sit if she so wished.

The week of blood meant that this body was indeed fertile; she considered herself fortunate that she had not conceived a child during her tryst with her brother. Absently, she pressed her hand to her abdomen, fingers splaying out over the womb. It was comforting to know that it was empty. "How long will this go on?"

"Sometimes as less as three days, sometimes as long as six; the bleeding can get stronger at the second, third day." Frigga settled down and pulled Loki back into her arms. "The pain tends to be stronger first, then it usually fades. Sometimes it is accompanied by nausea, or sensitivity to tastes and scents. Warmth does good to the ache and I have heard the proud Valkyries claim that exercise helps it as well. Bandages were a good choice for an emergency, but I will provide you with something more suitable." She kissed the pale forehead. "I hope the pain does not trouble you too much."

There was a smile. It was faint, shy, barely more than a tiny quirk of her lips, but it was there, hidden against the inside of mother's fragrant throat. Her arms slid around Frigga's middle, fingers sliding over her back, then locking for an embrace. "I promise to never again make light of the week of blood," she murmured. "The pain is easily bearable, but lingering and impossible to ignore. And I feel so very dirty, even after just bathing before I came to visit."

She snuggled tight to her, the Allmother's breath and heartbeat soothingly familiar. "How am I to manage a run or a hunt in this state? Thor would not allow me to go alone. I do not wish to explain this to him."

Frigga laughed lightly. "He would benefit from the knowledge, I believe... But worry not. When properly prepared, you can see to any duty or task. Where would Asgard be if her women came down by something that is so much part of their very nature? Don't think women haven't fought battles while on their cycle. You can even forget about it at times. No need to feel dirty; blood is blood, part of the body, part of life; it is not waste. Just, the stains are bothersome, and the odor can be unpleasant if you go about it carelessly. Have you planned on leaving the Palace, love?"

"Of course not!" she replied quickly, "I dare not show this face to the whole of Asgard!"

Loki paused for breath, heart hammering in her chest. "I've shown myself to Thor and the Warriors Three." For one horrifying moment, he was certain that she would know just how open she'd been with her brother. Perhaps his choice of words were unfortunate. Briefly, he locked eyes with her. "I long to leave the grounds but I cannot bear to wear a face that is not mine."

Warm hands cupped his chin as a response. "Get used to wearing masks, dearest. Changing one's form requires a special talent; not all sorcerers bear it, and if they want to twist their bodies, they need to work for it hard and long. You should not have been able to complete this spell, yet you were. You have the talent. Of course, I do not encourage you to embrace this gift without paying mind to the dangers. But concealment is your nature. It might aid you greatly in the future. If you forge a plan clever enough, you might even fulfill your wish. Four young warriors would stand guard; for first glance, the people might even think you be the young lady Sif."

She exhaled through her nose, tipped her head to the side, and rubbed her cheek gently into her mother’s palm. “You are wise and your advice is solid as the throne of Asgard itself. I should not fear walking about with my mask. Who would ever believe that I am Loki the Trickster?”

Raven hair sliding over her cheek, she sat up and linked their hands together. “Perhaps this is a blessing from Valhalla. I could roam our fair city without being recognized, even by our enemies. I would be left to my own devices, where I may train and better flex my hold upon the magic you have shared with me.” She laughed, a soft, melodic burst of sound. “Thank you, Allmother. What would I do without your guidance?”

“You would eventually come to the right solution, as you are smart, my child, and not afraid of the written word.” Frigga nuzzled her affectionately. “I have a book that will grant you even more knowledge about the female body. It was written by a woman healer.” She was glad everything was going well - she knew that most men or boys would have had a lot more difficult time coping with the assortments of the opposite gender. Loki was a born Shifter; he settled into the different form relatively smoothly. However, there was something said earlier that caught the attention of Asgard’s queen.

“Now my child. What are these shameful urges you mentioned?”

She liked to believe that she could school her expressions easily. Though her pulse froze and her heart felt like it’d been stabbed with shards of ice, there was barely a twitching of her delicate brow. Her hands folded across the thin lap. “A-ah.. Merely my own thoughts, mother.” He so treasured this time with her, when at last he was the shining star in her sky and a point of pride. He would do everything in his power to keep that from changing, at least for the moment.

“You know that you can talk to me about anything,” Frigga murmured soothingly. “I only wish you the best, my darling. When you have something to ask, you can always come to me.” She kissed the top of the prince’s head. “Now, let us go about this problem. Come, my child.” She rose and held out her hands. “We’ll get the herbal tea to lessen the ache, find some padding for your undergarments and locate the book I spoke of.”

She took Mother’s hands but didn’t rise. They had a bond, truly they did, and it would be unwise of him to ignore a potential source of good information. “Mother... there are... _preventative_ measures, correct?” This form’s voice was so soft, a delicate silver bell that rang out shyly.

“Ooh.” Frigga sat back. “I see what’s on your mind now.” She laughed a little. “Yes, my dear. If you chose to explore this form and its possibilities further, indeed you have to be armed...” She frowned a little. “Accidents like this don’t happen too frequently, and they are not documented... I am not sure how pregnancy would affect the spell. It would be best not to challenge fate. There are several methods, special potions being the easiest. One can also block the man’s seed from entering the womb. There are even a few spells that could be to your liking. The book I spoke of is quite thorough, it will aid you well.”

She felt heat in her cheeks, but prayed fervently that his practiced composure would keep from any embarrassing reactions. Why would Frigga Allmother ever suspect that her two sons would find physical pleasure with one another? He was merely asking, ever the curious boy. She would never know. “Forgive my choice of subject. It appears that all of my answers lie in the book you spoke of.” Slowly, Loki rose and slid his robe over the fine, delicate shoulders. “I will follow you to collect it, mother.”

Tugging the veil of hair back, she began to pull her hood up. Their conversation ebbed back, that Loki, the Trickster Silver-Tongued son of Odin Allfather and Frigga Allmother, should not be afraid of showing his face (or faces) to anyone. So, he laid the hood down, tilted her chin up, and gave a shy smile.

The queen rose as well and took the delicate face into her hands. “I will not condemn you for wanting to test your limitations,” she told the prince. “Do as you see fit; merely be aware of the consequences. Make sure to plan ahead, take the necessary measures, but don’t let caution hold you back from greatness. Our dearly beloved Thor is headstrong and obstinate; you are collected and balanced. Both behavior can have merits and flaws; I trust you to find the middle ground. I loath to see you struck by ill fortune; do not let your mother weep.”

Her lips parted, pulse jump-starting in a panic; however, he remained still and calm. He and his brother were often compared to one another in passing, especially by their parents.

She couldn’t have guessed. He’d dropped no hints whatsoever...! It was impossible...

“I would do nothing to bring tears to your eyes.” Her son leaned forward, girlish lips pressing to her chin. “I swear by my soul to never shame you.”

“I love you, my darling,” Frigga whispered. “Never doubt that and never forget it.” Smiling at the child granted to her by war and compassion, she nodded. “Let us go then.”

The trip was short; Frigga kept everything necessary within arm’s reach. She wrapped the necessities into a scarf then produced a thick tome from the shelf. The precious book was tightly packed with small, delicate writing and beautiful illustrations; moreover the author did not see the merit in flowery language. It became apparent quickly that she did not beat around the bush; the writing style was full of gentle humor, lacking any dryness despite the enormous amount of knowledge it relied.

It proved to be a rather enjoyable read; and after a steaming cup of herbal tea, a change of clothes and a bit of dessert, the world seemed like an acceptable place to live at. Loki fell asleep with the covers tightly wrapped around her - especially her waist - and her last thought was that of gratitude towards his mother.


	4. Chapter 4

While he prefered moving about like a true warrior - with much noise, preferably screams, thunder and the sound of metal kissing metal - Thor Odinson was not an entirely lost case when it came to sneaking around. He entered his brother’s chambers quietly and tiptoed to the bed, to marvel at the delicate face and the tendrils of raven hair framing it and curling around slim shoulders. Then he promptly slipped under the covers, grinning from ear to ear.

Although not particularly bothered by the cold, Loki still gravitated toward sources of constant warmth. Somewhere in the fog of sleep arrived the need to move, urging his body to slide over the waves of linen and tangle itself within the flame. In dreams, he was consumed by the light and drawn for kisses that thrust down his throat and burned him beautifully from the inside out. In the physical world, however, these urges manifested as a subtle twisting, of tilting her face toward the radiance and pressing close.

Sensations of feeling and scent came next, familiarity washing over his resting mind in tender breezes of light and cleanliness. “..what are you doing?” came her flat, sleep-drenched voice, as he roused and was able to identify the source of these feelings without needing to crack an eye. “I _do_ sleep with a dagger beneath my pillow, you realize.”

“You and the lady Sif both,” Thor sighed dramatically, winding his strong arms around his sibling. “I’m getting used to the thought that ladies can be more fierce than an army of Frost Giants.” He nuzzled Loki, stealing a chaste kiss from her lips. “I would have liked to see you last night. You didn’t come, so I decided to drop in. I hope this does not warrant a death sentence?”

She scowled, but those warm lips remedied the expression quite readily. He couldn’t help himself, and inched across the remaining bit of space so their bodies could slide flush together. Normally, he felt none of the imposing curves of Thor’s strong body, but in their sleeping garments, very little was hidden beneath the thin cloth. “Nay. I fear that in death, my brother would be even more persistent in approaching for my undivided attention.” Her small hand trailed up the side of his throat to rest against the curve of his jaw. “Forgive my neglect. This form functions better than I had ever anticipated, I am afraid.”

A thrill went down his spine, settling as heat around her hips and core. Even while the blood flowed, he was horrified to discover that his desire wasn’t sated in the least. “I will not be able to provide the sort of company you seek.”

Thor’s face was a study in itself. He obviously had no idea what Loki was talking about. “But you’re providing the company... Is something wrong? Are you unwell?” His ignorance was annoying, but his genuine concern took off the edge quite effectively. He ran a hand down along the curvy body, caressing the soft breasts hiding underneath a thin nightgown.

Her back arched slightly, so his palms and fingers would drag over the sensitive points that always seemed to perk up under his touch. “Oh, Thor... How I loathe and adore you!”

She slipped one foot between his ankles, pushing the smooth skin across his calf in an attempt to get him to understand. Palms flat to his neck, she drew him forward to rest their foreheads together. “It would be a lie for me to say that I have not longed for you since last you took me into your arms, brother mine.” She paused, breathing hot across his cheek, then capturing his lips for a brief moment. “I have not allowed another night of feverish touching, yet now that I truly wish it, I am unable to offer myself to you. We may pay our thanks to the mysteries of the female form, who seeks to horrify all with blood.”

The announcement was met with a splendid reaction. Thor flushed then paled in rapid succession then scooted back, away from his sibling. However, it wasn’t the look of disgust taking residence on his face but more worry - and fear.

“I get it- and I apologize. Had I known, I would not come to bother you with my affection... Shall I leave, would you like to sleep more?”

“Wait-- please!” The sudden plea sounded pitiful to his own ears, but he was unable to stop it. He missed his brother. The prospect of his affection was delightful, to say the very least. It startled him to realize how much he truthfully enjoyed being the subject of Thor’s ministrations. “I... I have located a few passages for you to read, and-- I wish to...”

Her fingers looked tiny against his. She laced them together, pulled his hand forward, and peppered the strong knuckles with kisses. “I wish to be bothered with your affection.”

“Thank the stars!” Thor declared with much relief. “Sif made sure I know not to trifle with a woman in her blood - she threatened me with swift death when I tried to bother her with my affection. I’m glad I don’t have to fear now.” He moved back, hugging Loki close. “Still, can I do anything to lift your mood? What is it that you want me to read?”

The embrace was welcomed. She kissed his cheek, then sat up to summon a simple fire spell that would better illuminate their area. “Here,” she passed a small, delicate text to him, complete with the slip of cloth he’d used to mark it earlier, “This explains much about my.. reactions to you when...”

It amazed him how difficult it was to discuss these things at times. Her face grew hot as she pressed to his side and slipped her arm around his middle. “Do you understand?”

Again, there was the look of perfect confusion, then Thor’s face lit up. “When you showered me with your love?” His broad chest rumbled with laughter. “I s-shall read it. Indeed. And you just rest.” He sat up, back against the bed’s headboard and opened the book. He wilted a little when he spotted the abundance of text - it was not that he didn’t like reading, just that his attention couldn’t focus on it for extended periods. He prefered the stories to be told. However, for Loki’s sake, he was willing to do a lot of things. 

She grinned, rubbing her cheek back and forth across his shoulder. So little had changed from when they were children. “The woman is an enigma, difficult to read and understand--so when a man finds a bride that is open with her joys and pains, he should consider himself blessed by Valhalla.” As she read to him, voice quiet and even, her hand snuck over his lower abdomen to stroke the hot skin. “Her pleasure is vast and intense, eruptions of her passion that will leave her breathless. It is possible to make such a bride out of any woman. Numerous logs have been made of skilled lovers who are able to cause such an eruption by providing close contact to a particular area inside.”

Shivers made her skin prickle. She recalled that “area” quite well, especially the sensations caused by those skillful, perfectly-aimed thrusts. “A-and so on..”

“You needn’t read the entire book to me,” Thor smiled. “I shall go through it myself, paying close attention.” He placed a hand on hers. “I do love to lie with you and make you flustered, but I am content with just being close. If any of your plans involved me for today, say so - to be honest, as breakfast time is drawing near, I find myself drawn toward the dining hall.”

Embarrassed, she pushed her forehead against her neck, then sat up to draw her limbs back toward herself. “I should consider myself honored, that the mighty Thor saw it fit to visit me before satisfying his appetite. No, beloved. I wished to show you this text and apologize for my absence last evening. I pray that we shall have more time together when this affliction passes.”

“Aye. The month is drawing to a close and you’ll be back into your old self,” Thor nodded. “Loki... my dear brother. I will always remember these days, until my dying day. We’ll be never able to have again what we had now, but I’ll be forever thankful for the chance to experience such closeness with you.”

His breath caught. Something like disappointment crushed his chest, making the full lips tense as she reached to touch her brother's face. They would never get to do this again? He would never find comfort in his brother arms, never be loved this fully by the one he cherished more than anything in the Nine Realms?

It wasn't until faced with this possibility that he realized just how willing he was to become the Lady of Thor's dreams. Somewhere, forsaking all else to please this lad became an acceptable solution.

"Myself as well. I have been truly happy to know you as I do, and am grateful that I may both kiss your mouth and call you brother."

The embrace was gentle but secure. "But, we will always remain brothers," Thor whispered. "No matter what happens, no matter what happened - never stop to come to my room and demand my attention. I love you and I always will and this will not change until the Nine Realms crumble to dust."

He pressed her face to his chest, taking a deep breath so he could commit this moment to memory. In an unfamiliar form, bleeding and aching, frightened and exhilarated and unsure, he was loved deeper than he'd ever been. Her fingers tightened in Thor's tunic, linen teasing with the prospect of being easily torn away so he could kiss the skin underneath, and he found himself taken with the idea of making love just once more.

Then she pulled away, face glowing. "You will be a fine king one day. Of course, this is barring that you starve to death first." Reluctantly, she lowered her hand to pat his stomach. "Do I hear Father's wolves, or does my brother Thor have an appetite that requires immediate attention?"

The golden prince flustered and laughed. "My mentors always encourage me to have plenty of sustenance, to grow enough muscles... I shall go and keep company to our parents. I will have the servants prepare an honest meal for you, too, and bring it to your room. Will that be alright?"

"I haven't an appetite. I fear that the prospect of food is absolutely nauseating." She moved to lay back down, stretching out on her side and pulling the warm blankets up over her shoulders. Before closing her eyes, her small finger drew a lock of blonde hair back behind Thor's ear. "Eat extra for me. When I am a prince again, we shall venture out and see what muscles we can grow together."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another part ends here - but there is more to come soon, with delicious smut! So stay tuned, and thank you for all the views!

He lingered. The God of Thunder found himself coming here once every week, to torment himself. In a way, it felt good. Suffering eased the guilt an ounce.

First, the screams tore at his soul and he wept, biting his knuckles and screwing his eyes shut, his chest heaving with silent sobs. As the voices quieted, so did the tempest of emotions - now in the complete silence, he just lingered and ached, wanting to go down there and knowing that he couldn’t. Loki went from Trickster to Traitor, and a traitor’s place was in a prison, alone and forgotten.

Thor still mourned for his brother, he still loved him; but he was Crown Prince of Asgard, pillar of the law, and he had to act accordingly. But no law was against coming here, trying to pick up crumbs of information about the prisoner. Servants tended to talk when their lords could not hear them, and Thor, despite being a noble, mighty warrior could hide very well.

He saw the handmaidens and the Einherjar emerge and waited eagerly for them to approach.

The oldest turned off the lamp and took one bucket from her sister. The youngest turned the muzzle in her hands, head lowered. “I wish we shouldn’t have to come back again...” she murmured.

“I agree!” The second one sighed. “It breaks my heart to see a man like this.”

"You should both be grateful that he is suffering," snapped the eldest, whose eyes gleamed as she snatched the muzzle from her sister's hands and shook it. "If it were up to me, he would wear this blessed thing until he is dead and rotting at the bottom of those steps!"

The middle sister looked horrified, while the youngest scrubbed her lovely face with the heels of her hands. "How could you say such things? He is a prince--"

"WAS a prince," came that icy voice again, "Until he betrayed us all in his selfish attempts at power. The lad fails to realize that he will NEVER be Thor, who is a true and just king--"

"Please, please, I beg of you, sister, stop! You avoid his eyes every time we bathe him, but I look into them and see his pain. He is broken. He did not lift a finger to struggle this time. In fact, he seemed to push into our touches and cried out so miserably when we took the light away."

The youngest turned toward the second, her fine shoulders pinching together. "He is so very young... So young! Do you not look into his face and see the eyes of a frightened child, my sister?"

"I do, oh I do! He had them closed half the time while his tears were streaming down his face! He truly suffers down there. They way he looks at the light, it's a madman's stare! We'll go down one day and find him dead or worse!"

"Enough, you pitiful lasses! That is what he wants you to think! He seeks your compassion so he could escape, and he is faring rather well in that."

The youngest lowered her head, being chastised to, but the middle sister was persistent. "He succeeded, yes! My heart weeps for him and I wish to ease his suffering."

"Would you become a traitor for him?! I will arrange that you never again come with us."

"No, sister. I know the law, and the prince indeed crossed them, both those of Asgard and that of Midgard. He should be punished, but this is driving him mad! I'm sure he wishes to be killed, and I hope the Odin Allfather soon decides to do that... it'd be better for the poor wretched thing."

"For his transgressions, he deserves to go mad. I pray that he lives long, and becomes a pitiful old man who wallows in his own filth and dreams of the many devils of Hel." The bucket hit loudly against one of the walls, as the eldest sister shook it in her dainty fist. "This.. this water would be better used to bathe a sow than Loki the Traitor."

The second sister rubbed her younger sibling's shoulders, as the maiden wept quietly into her hands. "Your heart is so cold. He is a man, misguided and selfish, but still a man. I recall how your eyes used to sparkle when he greeted you..."

"I wish for him to see the light just once more," lamented the youngest, "If he must die, then take his life, but this torment..! Oh, I cannot bear it!"

They all looked up at the sound of footsteps creaking on marble floor and all bowed as Thor approached them. The oldest was noticeably uneasy. The prince stopped before them and sighed. "Young woman fair, you are strict and just. You speak the truth of Loki's deeds, but please... Do not speak ill about him anymore. He is still my brother, and while I couldn't expect others to love him like I do, don't condemn him so loud and harsh."

His voice was gentle; this was not an order, merely a plea. "And you, maidens - I thank for your kindness and compassion. I know you speak the truth and... I shall plead Allfather for a swift decision about my brother's fate. A traitor deserves his punishment, but no Asgardian shall be driven mad as such."

"Even after--"

"Hold your tongue, wench!" the youngest whispered harshly, glaring over her shoulder at the eldest sister. She gave a curtsy, picked up the buckets, and sent a distressed look to the muzzle still clutched in her sister's hand. "Please excuse us, Highness."

The oldest and youngest scurried away, saying naught a word again that he could hear. Only the middle remained, her face set in prim stone, save for the eyes that glistened with hidden tears. "Thank you, my lord. My heart knows that he loves you, and that he would thank you if he learned of your deeds."

She knelt, bowing to him formally, then stepped away to rejoin her siblings.

Thor looked after them, his hand on his chest, in a vain attempt to soothe the ache there. Then, he swiftly turned, crimson cape billowing after him and he headed to Allfather' chambers.


End file.
